


Sandswept

by Beophron



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character tags will be added as the fic updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9293057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beophron/pseuds/Beophron
Summary: Numbani was by all estimations a modern and progressive city. A gem, a symbol of humanity’s resilience, and the pride of Africa’s coast. Three days ago insurgents took Numbani by storm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much the first fic of its caliber I've ever written. Go easy on me.

Numbani was by all estimations a modern and progressive city. A gem, a symbol of humanity’s resilience, and the pride of Africa’s coast. Three days ago insurgents took Numbani by storm.Three days ago the army moved in to stop them. It took three days of fighting to evacuate the majority of civilians caught in the crossfire and three days of fighting for the defending army to force the insurgents into a small, heavily defended corner of of the city. 

Backed into a corner and on its last legs the fighting became vicious as the insurgency lashed out in its final death throws. The number of casualties had taken a dramatic spike in those last few days as the defending army’s rapid advance came to a grinding halt when they struggled to land the killing blow. What was intended to be swift strike had faltered and turned into a stalemate that threatened to go on for weeks and leave the city in ruin. 

Initially Morrison refused to intervene. Overwatch had only just reformed and in secret no less. They needed to pick their targets carefully, they could not afford to enter a fight that might expose their efforts and snuff out the last dying light of the paramilitary organization before it could establish itself. The others fought him on it. This was their chance to up the ante. Everybody knew that the defending army had lost its momentum. While no one believed the insurgency would be able to retake the city, how long it would be before they were eradicated was question that no one had the answer to. 

So far the agency had built itself on small, covert, strike missions. Most of them being little more than small time mercenary work, some even toeing the line of bounty hunting. Hardly the image of the once esteemed Overwatch. They took on missions their agents could enter, complete, and leave while causing as little stir as possible. While such missions made for good practice the members of Overwatch, especially those who had been members of the original organization, would not be satisfied with those alone. They did not sign up to be bounty hunters, and they would not tolerate being them for very long. 

It was the evening of the second day when Morrison relented and agreed it was time to move in. 

The mission was simple. Move in and destroy a their supply cache. They had caught wind of a payload planning to attempt to sneak in supplies to the insurgents. If they could stop the supply run (and bust the heads of a few high ranking officers in the process) they could discreetly cripple the force. If all went according to plan they could set the ball into motion for the insurgency’s defeat. And though it would be a long shot, they could potentially get the mission accomplished without ever catching the attention of the defending army. 

The morning leading up to the mission they all watched in silence as the news broadcasted footage of the fighting. All it took was a single RPG to blast a thirty foot hole into the side of a shining modern building, the explosion sending rubble roaring into the streets below. If there were any doubts remaining about this mission, they were washed away at the sight. 

The sun was just beginning to set when the transport touched down. Before long they would be offered the cover of darkness to protect them in their fight. Once they had landed they had split up into strike teams. Pharah and Mercy took to the skies providing essential air support to the teams down below. They had worked well together in the past, and by now the two of them could operate almost completely void of talking. 

They hovered at the distant outskirts of the fighting well out of range of enemy fire. They circled around, attempting to outflank the unsuspecting insurgents while the other teams spearheaded the assault. 

“Pharah, we’re going to need an airstrike.” 76 growled over the group comm. At the same time her visor lit up with a series of coordinates. She turned to look at her partner, receiving in return a knowing look. The medic would not be following her into this one. “Try to rendezvous with the others. If you can’t, take cover. I’ll come back for you.” 

Mercy nodded and broke off. Pharah watched her as she directed herself towards the nearest building- the same building they had seen a rocket go through on the news earlier that day. An ironic place to take cover for sure, but it provided more protection than any rooftop and the fighting had drifted South hours ago leaving the location undisturbed. Once she had made sure her partner had safely landed she was off. “Mercy’s clear. ETA 30 seconds.” 

She failed to conceal the small smile that peaked out from under her helmet. These were those most dangerous times for her, but they were also the most fun, though she would not admit it. These were the times when she didn’t have to worry about her speed or covering Mercy. These were the times when she could push the throttle to its max and the adrenaline junkie in her could get its fix. 

She streaked across the sky counting blue blips on her radar. When all had been accounted for and she passed over the final blip, she linked into the group comm again.

“Heads down. Rocket barrage Incoming.” 

* * *

“So much for bein’ subtle.” McCree’s drawl came on over the comm a hint of amusement in his voice. Pharah wasn’t sure who it was who scoffed in reply, but she guessed Tracer by the sound of it. Their discrete mission had turned into anything but, but then no one had really tried after Pharah had unleashed hell on the unsuspecting insurgents. 

“Do you think the army knows we’re here?” Tracer snickered. 

“Pretty sure my momma in America knows we’re here.” 

“Enough playing around. Time to pull out, the army can take it from here. Regroup at transport.” 76 barked. “Let’s get out of here before we draw anymore attention. If we’re lucky we’ll get away without knowing who we are.” 

“Copy that. I got Mercy.” While Pharah did find the teams banter amusing, she was not one to engage in jokes while on a mission. Under normal circumstances she might even be annoyed by it. Using the team comm links for such trivial conversations was something she wouldn’t have dared do while in the military and the old habit had stuck even though Overwatch had no such rules against it. But even Pharah had to admit that she, just like the others, was feeling just a little bit giddy over the success of their first big mission. Unlike them, she would save the jokes for the return home when everyone was safe and the guns were hung on the wall. 

It turned out that leaving Mercy in a half collapsed building was about as wise a decision as they had suspected. The blast had left the stairwell unusable, and height was too great for her to make it down on her suits wings alone. Pharah made a mental note to work on a better strategy for future missions so that splitting up didn’t mean leaving their only medic completely inaccessible to the people who needed her. It worked out in their favor this time, but such indiscretion would get someone killed eventually. That said, it was something they would probably laugh about later. 

Circling back around, Pharah found Mercy exactly where she had left her. Coming in to land, she could see her partner waiting patiently inside the building, totally unscathed. It was a small landing zone and Pharah had to cut her engines completely and kick her legs out to make it. Landing heavily the damage weakened floors shuddered dangerously and it was a minor miracle it didn’t collapse under them as a result. Swearing under her breath, Pharah kicked herself for her second lapse in judgement regarding the building. 

She looked up from where she was crouched on one knee with a crooked smile trying to hide her annoyance from her partner. Mercy was well aware of Pharah’s high standards and tendency to punish herself. She didn’t need to know Pharah was doing it right now. Instead of returning her smile, Mercy looked at her with a strange expression that took Pharah off guard and could not place. She seemed…surprised? Pharah had radioed in minutes prior informing Mercy of her approach and Pharah could see them making eye contact when she came in for landing. She straightened and started to open her mouth to ask what was wrong, when she realized the medic was looking past her. 

She turned around to follow her teammate’s gaze to the edge of the blast hole. Amongst the rubble and covered by their deep blue jacket, a person lay nearly invisible on the ground. Pharah had flown in no more than five feet over their head, and had completely missed them in the darkness. At first she thought they might have been a corpse, a soldier or a unlucky civilian caught in the blast that took down the wall they lay on. It wasn’t until Pharah looked a little closer that she noticed the rifle pointed down and out of the hole. 

In an instant her pistol was in her off hand, seldom drawn and only used for situations where her rocket launcher was more likely to get herself killed than to be of any use. There was an armed combatant in the room with them, a unknown who had appeared silently and out of nowhere. Pharah was not about to take any chances with this person. Pharah was armored, Mercy was not. Missions prioritized the safety of the medics above all else. She stepped in front of Mercy and pointed the pistol at the prone form, demanding they identify themselves. 

The figure didn’t move, or make any indication they had heard the question. When Pharah went to repeat the question, a hand shot up. Military signal. Stop. Then the arm raised, palm down, and was lowered again. Take cover. No matter how suspicious Pharah was of this person, years of military experience had taught her a few things. Foremost, when someone told you to take cover, regardless of who it was, you did so without hesitation or you lost your head. 

She pushed Mercy behind her, none too politely shoving her round a dark corner. Pharah didn’t take her eyes off the rifleman as she backed into the corner herself, keeping herself between the doctor and the mysterious person at all times. Angela would not appreciate being manhandled like this, and would definitely have a bone to pick about it later. 

Only a moment after they tucked themselves into the corner something exploded in the wall behind them, followed by the whoosh of air and finally the telltale crack of gunfire broke the night’s silence. Sharp bits of plaster showered the both of them with enough speed to blind them if they haddn’t closed their eyes. They were both well familiar with the sound of sniper fire. Judging the delay between the bullets impact with the wall and the sound of the gun she knew that whoever was firing at them was very far away. Far farther than either of them could have hoped to have spotted unassisted. A second shot rang out into the darkness but this time it came without the sound of impact and this time it was deafeningly louder. Whoever had shot at them had given away their position, and the sniper in the room with them returned fire in kind. 

Before either Pharah or Mercy could react it was over and their sniper was standing up and moving away from the hole. It was only now that they finally saw the figures face, or rather lack thereof. They were met with a face of shiny black glass, the only defined feature of which was the glowing blue triangle where a person’s eyes and nose should be. The person’s form was so heavily obscured by their heavy coat and kevlar armorings that there was no way of telling if this person was male or female, and given their face they couldn't even be sure whether the figure they were looking at was human or omnic. 

Pharah stepped out to face them gun still drawn. She didn’t know what their sniper’s hand was in the conflict, nor who the other sniper they had engaged with was. The figure cocked their head curiously at the pair, and for a second Pharah wondered if they were just as surprised to see them, as they were to see them. Again the figure raised their hand to signal to them. They pointed once to Pharah and once to Mercy, then turned and motioned towards the hole in the wall. 

“He’s telling us to leave.” Mercy translated over Pharah’s shoulder. The sniper nodded, confirming the message then lifted their rifle slightly. “You’ll cover us?” Another nod. 

Pharah didn’t move. “How do we know he won’t use that against us as soon as we leave?” That wasn’t the main issue though. She doubted the sniper would be able to line up a shot against a moving target in the dark like that, that was not how most snipers were trained. 

When they stood, the sniper had revealed how they had managed to evade Pharah’s detection when she entered the room. Their coat was lined the same light blue glow from their helmet. Heat mask or radar reducer she wasn’t sure which, but it worked perfectly to hide them from the raptora. With technology like that, if the sniper decided to start firing they would never find them again. 

“You’re coming with us.” Pharah decided. It would be the safest way to keep an eye on this person, at least until they hit the ground and removed the vital height advantage from the threat. Even without a face, the full body shrug she got in return was a clear message. Decked head to toe in advanced stealth technology, and the figure had all the body language of someone who was just told what to do by an disobedient child. 

“Pharah,” Mercy prodded gently. She placed on hand on the Pharah’s gun arm, lightly pushing it down as she stepped out from behind her protector. “He’s been here the whole time. He was here when I got here. If he wanted to hurt me- if he wanted to hurt us he wouldn’t have told us to take cover.” Quieter and so only Pharah could hear her she continued, “We didn’t come here to take prisoners.”

Finally, Pharah turned her head away from the sniper to look down at Mercy. She considered protesting thinking of five different reasons why taking prisoners was always an option on the table. She didn’t voice any of them though. Her mission might be to protect Mercy but that didn’t mean Mercy was her subordinate. Mercy was as much an agent of Overwatch as she was and as such her judgement was just as valuable as anyone else’s. And while hierarchy was a very blurry thing in Overwatch, if going by experience alone, Mercy’s judgement far outranked Pharah’s. 

She sighed and relented, giving Mercy a pointed look as she reholstered her pistol. “Fine. Let’s make this quick.” She led them to the edge of the blast, warily keeping the sniper in her peripheral vision. She looked down into the darkness for a moment before gesturing for Mercy to engage her own armor’s flight systems. As they prepared themselves for takeoff the sniper retook their previous post laying down at the pair’s feet. Pharah hesitated for only a moment more, before engaging the raptora’s engines and stepping off the edge of the building. 

When they had gone a short distance Pharah asked Mercy if she could still see their sniper. She wanted to look for herself, but the raptora’s design severely limited her ability to look over her own shoulder. Her response came back negative. Whatever technology glowed blue on the sniper somehow didn’t project any farther than a few feet. Whether or not the figure was watching them was impossible to know. The sound of sniper fire never came a third time. 

It only took them five minutes to touch down back at transport. Judging by the small group waiting for them they were the last to arrive. 76 nodded in approval, standing near the open bay doors of the helicopter. McCree smiled and waved to them, sitting just off to the side of the transport finishing the last of his cigar while Tracer wandered idly nearby. The voices of the rest could be heard quietly chatting inside the carrier. 

As soon as she heard them, Pharah’s unease dissipated. Despite the unexpected encounter in the collapsing building there was no denying the relief she felt knowing their mission was a success. No one was injured and their work here was sure to be the catalyst that led to the insurgency’s downfall. They had proven themselves capable of taking on more advanced missions. She offered herself a little smile at the thought. They were beginning to look more like the Overwatch of her dreams. 

“Alright, that’s everyone. We ready to move out?” He didn’t wait for confirmation before turning around and leading the last stragglers into the transport. Their idling had him visibly on edge and there was an audible impatience to his tone. 76 would get his briefings later on the events once they returned back to base. 

“Uh Six, did you miscount?” The five of them paused when McCree spoke up. Pharah turned away from the loading platform and opened her mouth to question him when it was answered before she could get the words out. 

Out of the darkness a familiar soft blue glow materialized. Their sniper walked casually up the the group, their rifle slung over one shoulder. How the hell did they get here? It took Pharah five minutes flying time and the sniper couldn’t have been two minutes behind them. She hadn’t considered it until now, but Mercy had said it herself that the stairs were damaged- it was the whole reason Pharah went into that building in the first place. How the hell did their sniper even get down?

“What is this, who are you?” 76 barked. He was not a fan of surprises and this was a very big surprise. 

The sniper ignored him and instead turned to Mercy and waved for her to come closer. There was no hesitation. Much to everyone’s surprise Mercy obeyed, approaching the person without an ounce of trepidation. The figure removed the rifle from their shoulder and held it out to the doctor, who for the first time seemed a little surprised by the gesture. She took it quietly and the sniper then reached behind their back and handed her something that looked oddly like a small nerf gun. They then turned back to 76 and for the first time that night a heavily distorted voice crackled up from the sniper as they pointed at Pharah. 

“She told me to come.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I titled chapters this one would be: 76 Is An Asshole. Alternatively: Mercy Wears The Pants in This Relationship lbr

76 had not taken the sniper’s words kindly. As soon as they left their mouth, Morrison’s attention snapped to Pharah. She was not often taken off guard like this, and when 76 demanded an explanation from her, she had stumbled over her words trying to find them. 

“Pharah, what the hell is this?” 

“We found them in the building with Mercy. They-“ 

“Why the hell wasn’t it reported on the comm link?” 

“We were under fire I didn’t have a chance-“

“You were under fire? And when the fuck were you planning on telling us this?” 

“It wasn’t part of our mission. It was crossfire from the ins-“

“You told them to follow you?” 

“No, I-“

“Then why the fuck are they telling me otherwise?”

Mercy tried her hardest to keep a neutral expression as their commanding officer tore into her partner. Morrison fumed, looking about ready to send Pharah home and tell her to not come back. His shouting attracted the attention of those still inside the carrier. Hana’s head poked out, looking for the source of the commotion only to duck back inside when she realized what was going on. McCree and Tracer stood nervously around trying to look anywhere but at the two. 

“You came here from a goddamn security agency. Does this seem fucking secure to you?” He snarled, getting in her face and jamming an accusatory finger at her. 

“No.” This time she didn’t attempt to elaborate. Trying to explain herself was getting her nowhere. She stood ramrod straight, her military background becoming obvious as she took the reprimand without a hint of emotion breaking through her steeled expression. When it became clear she was no longer going to try to defend herself, 76 turned away and brought his attention back to the sniper, who stood patiently by Mercy waiting for the yelling to end. 

He had shot down the idea of allowing the sniper to come with them, parroting Fareeha’s earlier concerns about random combatants. That was when Mercy spoke up. “Commander, I don’t think they’re a threat. They warned us of an enemy sniper and- they gave us cover when we left.” She started off unsure of herself, but one glance at Pharah’s steeled expression emboldened her to continue. 

“Pharah had the same doubts you did. She relayed in my experience. I made the decision to trust them. I was in the building with them the whole time, and I didn’t once feel threatened by them.” Morrison said nothing as he considered Angela’s words. 

76 had known Angela longer than almost any other member of Overwatch. She knew him from back before he ever went by the name 76, when Overwatch was still something to be proud of and he was their strike commander. Mercy did not know much about the nuances of fighting or combat strategy, but she found she didn’t need it. It was no surprise to anyone that the man had a respect for the doctor founded in years of dedicated work together. It was far harder for him to yell at Mercy than Pharah, a relative rookie to their ranks. 

“They’re not armed. I have their guns.“ She raised the object in question to emphasize the point. In a quick afterthought she tacked on “We shouldn’t scare away potential allies.”

* * *

To say the trip back to base was awkward would have been an understatement. 

Lena and Hana, two people who were usually too pumped up on adeline after a mission to speak in any quieter than a shout, whispered amongst themselves. Every few seconds Mercy caught them throwing little glances at their unexpected guest. Even McCree, who loved to recount the stories of the mission had all just experienced with exaggerated detail, seemed at a loss for words. Morrison sat stiff as a board staring straight ahead. The man usually took off his visor and put his rifle away on transport. He did neither of those two things.

The sniper on the other hand, seemed unfazed by all the commotion they had caused. They had walked onto the carrier and found a spot to sit down without any hesitation with all the confidence of someone who had been a member of their team this whole time. They took their seat at one table, crossed their hands, and bowed their head, in what Angela assumed was deep thought. 

She had handed their rifle off to Morrison, where he had hung it up on the opposite side of the transport. It was fairly obvious that he did so to put every other agent between the sniper and their weapons. 

Mercy had taken a seat between Pharah and the sniper. It seemed somehow inappropriate for anyone else to sit beside the person she had vouched for. Angela considered trying to talk to the sniper but it seemed a little silly to try when most of their communication had been restricted to hand signals and body language. She turned instead to her left to strike up conversation with her partner who had been silent since Morrison’s reprimand. 

When asked if she was alright, Fareeha sighed and met Angela’s gaze with a weary look. “I’m fine.” Fareeha was by her nature a person short of speech. She tended to get right to the point, answer questions directly, and keep quiet when she had nothing of real substance to say. Initially, Angela thought it the sign of a cold, closed off person but as they worked together she had come to learn otherwise. Her partner was quiet, but she was far from cold. She was the type of person who spoke with her actions rather than her words. The fact that she would sit next to Angela and let her teammate see the fatigue in her eyes, was evidence enough of their close relationship. 

“Thank you for sticking up for me. It wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate it.” 

Angela smiled at that. She knew full well that Fareeha was probably beating herself up over something that no one else cared about, and reading far too much into Morrison’s sharp words. Angela looked around the carrier scrutinizing her team. They had just had a successful mission, their biggest yet, and yet everyone looked so somber. It didn’t seem right to mope after that. 

“You’ve already proven that you’re willing to step in front of a bullet for me once today, dear. I didn’t see it necessary to let you do so twice.” She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood just an ounce. “Unless of course you happen to be the sort of person who enjoys punishment.” 

A laugh broke through Fareeha’s tired expression at that, the joke suddenly waking her up to a mood that was far more appropriate for the situation. 

In her peripheral, something caught Angela’s eye. She turned to see the sniper watching them, their head cocked to one side. There was something about the gesture that was innocently curious, an expression that was almost humorously at odds with the ‘dangerous sniper’ image that everyone had gotten so worked up over. At the sight, a playfully devious impulse overtook her and Angela leaned back to mock whisper to the sniper.

“Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Pharah. You might have noticed, she tends to take herself a little too seriously. But, look at her now. She has a lovely smile, don’t you think?”

* * *

The next morning had gone on no different than any other. Had Fareeha not been so tired after their mission, she probably would have stayed up all night trying to put the events of the day in order. As soon as the transport landed Morrison demanded he speak with the sniper alone. The last Fareeha saw of either of them was the two of them disappearing into a soundproof conference room, and the click of the door locking behind them. As curious as it was, she had no other choice but to leave the situation be until morning. As it was she returned to her room and managed to do little more than eat and shower before collapsing into her bed, falling asleep almost instantly. 

When she awoke there was no evidence anything out of the ordinary had occurred. She checked her phone to see that the communal team schedule was unchanged for the day. There were no notices of impromptu meetings, nor were any training schedules altered. Everyone was expected to move on with their normal day just like any other. For Fareeha that meant locking herself away in her room typing up mission reports. 

It was a boring and unfilling task that was more of a technicality than anything of real substantive importance. Something for the records, something that no one would probably read but needed to be written regardless. It did nothing to quell her curiosity. It was a job that required her to play yesterday’s events over and over again in her head. She found herself puzzled by all of it. This should have been a cut and dry task listing the events in boring, professional language, and yet there were so many details missing it felt more like she was writing a mystery novel. It took her hours longer to complete than it should have. Worse yet was that no one seemed to be as hung up on it as she was- or so she assumed. She hadn’t actually gotten a chance to talk to anyone about it but if everyone was going on about their daily lives as the schedule suggested, then she was alone in her confusion. 

By the time noon came around, Fareeha thought herself silly for somehow expecting the events of last night to affect the happenings of today. 

She found herself wandering into the break room. There were enough of them in the base for each agent to have one to themselves but only one ever saw use. Back when there had been more members the rooms had been warranted but now that numbers dwindled everyone shared the one. It didn't matter the time of day or night one could almost always guarantee to find at least one person relaxing in the room. It was not originally intended to be used as anything other than a place to sit and have lunch but it had evolved into a cozy space where members came to socialize. 

The room had a little bit of everyone's personality in it. Jesse's collection of store brand coffee next to Lucio's collection of mismatched movie themed mugs. Neatly aligned near the sink were empty bottles of the six pack that without fail replaced itself in the fridge every Friday. Torjborn’s she assumed. She never saw much of him, and she'd never seen someone take a bottle. 

If anyone asked, she wouldn’t have admitted that she came here to gossip. She wouldn’t have even admitted it to herself. Fareeha Amari did not gossip. She was going to the break room despite people being there, not because of it. It was by pure coincidence that she found Hana there taking a break between exercises. 

She often found engaging in conversation with the younger woman to be difficult due to their vastly different backgrounds, personalities, and substantial age gap. The result was a relationship that more closely resembled coworkers than friends. Despite this, Hana visibly perked up when she walked into the room. The interest in gossiping must have been mutual as she had, without a doubt, been waiting for Fareeha to come out of her cave. 

When asked if she had heard anything about the sniper, Hana confirmed she hadn’t heard anything of it. She had heard small chunks of the story from Angela over breakfast, but had nothing that Fareeha didn’t already know. It was a response that made Fareeha all the more curious. Hana had an insatiable curiosity and was usually among the first to know of any goings on within Overwatch. If she hadn’t heard anything about the sniper, it was doubtful that anyone else had. 

Regardless, it didn’t stop Fareeha from asking the same question to McCree when she ran into him whistling in the hallway, or Zarya leaving the library. Like Hana, neither of them had anything new to say about it. As it turned out they had both intended to ask her the same question. In fact, everyone she spoke to seemed to parrot the same sentiment. 

It seemed that now that the tension from the night before had dissipated everyone wanted to know the story of the mysterious person who invited themselves onto their carrier and disappeared into oblivion. Instead of learning anything, Fareeha found herself repeating the same story of the night before ad nauseum.

It wasn’t until that evening that she learned anything new about the person. That was, ironically enough, that no one seemed to know anything about them. No one had seen the sniper since they had disappeared with Morrison the night before. No one seemed to know if they were even still here.

Even stranger was Morrison’s uncharacteristic aversion to the subject. Fareeha had learned that just about everyone had asked him about it and by all accounts he had adamantly refused to answer any of them. Who are they? Where are they? Where did they come from? What did they want? What did they say? Every question that could be asked was dismissed, his response always the same. ‘That’s not your concern.’ or ‘I’ve taken care of it.’ 

All the evidence pointed at the person having left but something about that conclusion didn’t sit right. If they had left why wouldn’t Morrison simply say as much and put an end to everyone’s questions? The base was a large compound designed to house far more people than were currently employed. It was conceivable that they could be hidden away in some unused corner of Watchpoint, but to what ends? 

It wasn’t until the following day that Fareeha noticed Morrison was acting strange. She received a memo that a training exercise he was supposed to lead had been unexpected dropped in her lap. No explanation as to why was given. He seemed to wander off for hours at a time. The man usually made himself easy to find, he had to be as the Commander but no one had heard from him. Everyone was aware he wasn’t leaving, he seemed to appear at random intervals to confirm that much, but where he was going no one could say. 

The training exercise had taken up the majority of her day. She was given little more than a few hours notice and as a result she was forced to spend all morning trying to come up with a plan. The unexpected responsibility did not mean she was exempt from her other duties and for the second day in a row, she was forced to lock herself in her room and cram to get everything done on time. She was so preoccupied with everything that had so suddenly been dropped on her that she was very nearly late to the same drills she was preparing for. 

Though she prided herself on her ability to perform under pressure, she was relieved when the training session was over, and she could peel herself out of the sweaty raptora suit. The session has been more or less a success even if McCree did need to tell her to slow down and relax. What did he know anyway? People had been calling Fareeha uptight her whole life. Her frustrations were merely the result of her personality and had absolutely nothing to do with her working nonstop for the past three days. Except, McCree had a way of seeing right through her, making her think that perhaps maybe she was just a little bit stressed out. 

By the time she cleaned up, showered, and finally put on something comfortable it was getting to that time when most of the members of Overwatch were eating and retiring to their personal spaces for the remainder of the evening. It was however still early enough that Angela should still be in the infirmary. Though it was not required of her, Angela had a habit of working later than other members of the team and would not drop a project before it was completed without some coaxing. With nothing else to do, Fareeha might as well go collect the good doctor. 

Angela was found, just as expected, in the infirmary staring intensely at her computer screen and completely oblivious to the time. When she looked up Fareeha was met with a frown. The doctor analyzed her then checked her watch with a sigh. Fareeha smirked at how well trained she had her, to the point where she didn’t need any special powers to know what Angela was thinking. Fareeha had not hurt herself during their exercises (an occurrence that was far more common than she would admit) which could only mean this was Angela’s call to wrap it up.

“Done soon? Wanna grab something to eat?” The honest answer was no, but Angela knew all too well that wasn’t an answer Fareeha would accept. The woman was one of her closest friends but didn’t see the importance in researching the latest in medical breakthroughs. 

“Let me just finish this article, I’ll only be a few more minutes.” Fareeha nodded in approval. Appeased for now, she took a seat in a nearby chair while she waited. 

They were the only two in the infirmary at the moment and it was quiet aside from the sound of Angela’s clicking and soft purr of idle equipment. It was the type of peaceful atmosphere that often reminded her of Angela, even when found outside the medical wing. There wasn’t much too look at here and her mind drifted. Without fail it was consumed by the sniper that had been plaguing her thoughts for days. 

“Do you know where Morrison is? I haven’t been able to find him.” She asked suddenly, interrupting Angela’s reading. The doctor looked up at her with creased brows, unsure where the question had come from. 

“No? I haven’t seen him. Was he hurt?” Of course it was a dumb question. Angela would have no reason to know where the commander was. She spent the vast majority of her days in here, a place that Morrison rarely had any reason to visit for reasons other than medical treatment. It was silly to think she would have noticed his bizarre behavior. 

Fareeha wondered if anyone else noticed how strange everything was. To her it seemed to obvious that Morrison was up to something but it was interactions like these that made her feel like she was making something out of nothing. It wasn’t like she usually knew where he was at all times, maybe she was reading too much into things by assuming he was being avoidant rather than just preoccupied with other mundane things. And to assume it had something to do with the appearance and disappearance of a person who had only been a small fraction of the week’s events was perhaps paranoid of her. 

“You’re thinking, Fareeha. The look does not suit you well.” She was pulled out of her thoughts at the sound of Angela’s teasing. “I don’t think I have ever seen you looking quite so pensive before. Stern, yes. But thinking?” She crinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’d like you nearly as much if you turned out to be the smart one.” 

“Shut up.” Fareeha replied with no bite and unable to hide her grin nor the slight blush that came with it. “He’s been acting odd.” She started again slowly, probing carefully to make sure she didn’t sound as crazy as she was beginning to feel. “He had me take his training session and didn’t give me any reason why. I’ve been meaning to ask him why but, I haven’t been able to find him.” 

Angela hummed in consideration. “It sounds as though he is busy, dear. Strike commander is a big job. That doesn’t sound out of the ordinary.” 

Fareeha wilted a little at the answer. It seemed to confirm what she had suspected. It was her who was being the irrational one here. She was nothing if not driven though and one answer was not going to deter her. Struck with a determination to make her case she continued again, bolder this time. 

“I know, but I don’t think I’m the only one who thinks something might be going on. I have talked to the others and no one has seen much of him. Not since we got back from Numbani. And no one has seen that sniper. You can not tell me it’s a stretch to think both things are related.” 

Angela didn’t respond right away. She was clearly thinking about what Fareeha had just said. Maybe her paranoia wasn’t as unfounded as she had originally believed. 

“Perhaps but… keeping secrets is what destroyed the first Overwatch. He knows better than to do that.” It was clear that the doctor was speaking carefully. She knew that her answer would not be what Fareeha wanted to hear, and was trying to let her down without making her friend feel stupid. 

Was it really that hard to believe though? Fareeha didn’t think so but, it was times like these when she was reminded that she was still green in the eyes of Overwatch. Jesse, Morrison, Angela- they all knew each other long before she ever entered the picture and so why wouldn’t they know each other’s actions and behaviors better than her? Amongst military and security personnel she never felt like an outsider. She understood the breed of people who took on those sorts of jobs, and never felt like she couldn’t understand the reasonings behind someone’s actions and decisions. Yet here she was, in a not so dissimilar job, being told by her best friend that she didn’t understand the commander. In a way it felt like she was being yelled at by Morrison again.

“I’m sure it will become clear soon. I doubt he means to seem elusive, that is not the man he is.” Angela quickly added in, trying to appease Fareeha’s obvious disappointment. Fareeha hummed in submission. It seemed lately that Angela’s job was to be her voice of reason. If she believed Fareeha’s concerns were exaggerated than Fareeha would believe her.

She didn’t think Angela had actually ever finished her article before getting up and deciding she was ready to leave. Fareeha would not contest it though, she was still hungry after all. Whether consciously or not she had long since accepted that Angela’s opinions reigned supreme in Overwatch and there was no point in trying to say otherwise. 

They were both done for the evening. She had been stressed out because she hadn’t been able to stop working, and here Fareeha was trying to make it worse when she had her chance to finally relax. The opportunity would not be squandered, she decided. She would mention nothing more of it tonight and enjoy the remainder of her evening without further thoughts of Morrison or snipers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like skipping over days at a time with only a few paragraphs but I don't really have the patience to write filler scenes that aren't relevant to the main plot. I keep thinking this is paced a little weirdly as a result but this is the manner in which I can write a 10k+ fic without burning out so take what you can get. 
> 
> As a side note, I know that this is tagged as a Pharmercy fic, but Im not really a fan of overly shippy fics so as you can probably tell their relationship is on the subtler side. If you wanted to, you could read it as platonic. That is intentional. 
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be straight here. 
> 
> I don't know if I am going to finish this fic. But I had about 2k words written of this chapter, sitting on my computer for 5 months, and it didn't feel right to leave them unpublished. So I sat down and forced myself to finish it. I'm not sure how well it came out as a result.

For the first time that week, Fareeha woke up feeling rested. One could only go so many days consumed by stress before exhaustion got the better of them. It also helped that she had no scheduled duties for this morning and was allowed to sleep in.

As soon as she stirred, the speaker in the ceiling gave the tell-tale click of Athena signing on. The AI was like an annoying cat that cried for food the instant they learned their human was awake.

“Good morning Lieutenant. Your schedule this morning co-” 

“There is nothing scheduled this morning, Athena.” Pharah interrupted. She might have already been awake at this point but that didn’t mean she appreciated being immediately assaulted with work.  

“That is incorrect. Strike Commander Morrison has ordered you be summoned as soon as you had awoken. You are to report to Conference Room 72635 as soon as possible.”

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later she was really regretting not stopping for coffee on her way. She had passed Jesse on her way to meet Morrison, who greeted her with a cheery wink and finger gun. The smell of fresh grinds wafting from the mug he held nearly had her turning around for her own. But she was diligent, and if Morrison requested her this early in the morning then it must be important.

It was as an afterthought that she noticed Jesse didn’t seem to share her own early morning haste. She passed a few other members as they emerged from their rooms and starting about their daily business, none of them paying her much mind, and none of them heading in the same direction. 

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though because only a moment later she was rounding the corner to Room 72635. Morrison stood vigilant in the hallway, giving her a small nod when he spotted her, but not moving from where he stood in front of a door.

 “Commander?”

He looked at her with an expression she could not place. From anyone else it might have resembled concern but on him that seemed unlikely. Morrison kept his emotions I a steel box under his bed. Even if  he had some reason to be concerned, he would never let that bleed through the ‘unflappable leader’ image he had worked so hard to craft. Especially not in front of a subordinate.

“Athena paged me. She said-”

“I know I told her to.”

“Earlier this week we received information from Cairo. I’ve been trying to decide what to make of it but- I think it’s important that you hear it for yourself.”

She nodded curtly despite not fully understanding what the commander was getting at. She supposed it was reasonable that she would be summoned to advise on the subject. She had of course grown up in Egypt, and spent a considerable amount of time working in Cairo during her time with Helix Security. And, unless someone was hiding a rather lackluster secret, she was the only one on Overwatch’s roster to speak fluent Arabic.

The idea that she would be an expert on the happenings of Cairo was nothing all that surprising. What gave her pause was rather the strange wording Morrison chose to use. The suggestion that she needed to hear the message first hand implied that what was received was something of significance. Whatever that could possibly be she couldn’t begin to guess. Perhaps, the only thing her mind could sew together was that one of her former teammates, be it from Helix or the army, had fallen under harm.

She thought back to the friends she had, many of them still employed by the same organizations where she met them. Though she didn’t keep in close contact with the majority of them, the idea that ill might have befallen one or more of them was an unpleasant one to say the least. Just the thought of one of them being harmed was upsetting enough that Fareeha understood why Morrison would have some reluctance telling her about it.

She mentally steeled herself, preparing for the worst as the commander stepped to the side, no longer barring the way to the briefing room he guarded. As she reached out to open the door she was halted by his speaking up.

 “Fareeha. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.” The commander had never looked quite as conflicted as he did in that moment. Standing before her was not the man who had reprimanded her days prior. Nor was he the man that assigned them their duties every morning. He looked so much more human than he ever did in that moment, so much more like the man she had known a lifetime ago when she was just a little girl, and he was not a superior officer but a friend. 

He broke their gaze first, indicating in his own language that there was no more to be said. With no further delay she entered the briefing room.

The room was one of many that looked out over the majority of the Watchpoint. At it’s height, Overwatch had an impressive budget. It was something that was easy to forget when their modern operations took place in a small, cold wing of the massive base. It was rooms like this that reminded everyone of the organization’s former glory. The far wall was a single pane of glass that stretched its entire length, floor to ceiling, that looked out over the courtyard and the horseshoe shaped base. At one point, the entire hustle and bustle of the base’s epicenter could be monitored from this point. Today, the only thing to be seen was empty runways, forgotten construction materials, and the occasional agent walking across the expanse.

When she was a little girl, Fareeha use to sneak into rooms like these to look down at the people below. She would sit there for hours giggling to herself as she played eye spy and tried to spot people she knew amongst the crowds of workers. There was no longer anyone to watch from this vantage point, but that did not seem to deter the woman standing by the window, today.  

The sniper had changed their clothing since she had last saw them. No longer were they wearing a mask, nor the kevlar that had so heavily obscured their form. The only reason that she knew this was the same sniper they had met in Numbani days prior, was that they still wore the very distinct coat with the glowing blue detailing. Though, now their hood was drawn back revealing a long silver braid, grown over a lifetime, and slung over one shoulder.

In hindsight it should have been obvious. Fareeha didn’t see it because it wasn’t something that seemed possible to see again.

Ana was repulsed by the concept of killing, but she accepted it as a necessary evil.  She turned her nose up at any weapon that wasn’t a rifle. In her own words, everything else was a cruel butcher’s tool that left too much margin for suffering. A good rifle was swift and merciful by comparison. If duty required her mother to kill, then she would do so with a heavy heart and a high caliber.  

Though the cut and color of the jacket was different, Ana’s fashion sense was unmistakable. Her mother loved wearing dusters, and the long blue one she once favored was as much a standard of her uniform as it was of Fareeha’s childhood. Long coats had no place under the harsh Egyptian sun, but Ana took no shit from anyone, not even mother nature herself.

Ana Amari stood before her with all the same confidence of her youth. The confidence of a soldier, the confidence of Overwatch’s second in command. A confidence that melted away when she turned and met her daughter’s eyes.   

In that moment there were so many questions that Fareeha needed to ask. The need to know exactly what she was looking at slammed into her with such force that when she opened her mouth to ask them, no words came out. Too many questions flooded her mind at once and she couldn’t differentiate one from the other. Her mind blanked out and she found herself more startled than she’d ever been in her life. She had looked down the barrel of a gun on more occasions and yet somehow this felt infinitely more shocking. 

In response to her shock- or perhaps in spite it it, Ana spoke first. 

"I must thank you, Fareeha. I waited in that building for hours for that sniper to pop their head out. I was beginning to wonder if they were going to lose their patience and fire another rocket at me."

She stared at her mother, trying to process what she was saying. 

“<You were the sniper in Numbani? You’re ali- you’re supposed to be dead.>”

It took flipping into Arabic to finally find her voice. Fareeha had only ever learned English from Ana’s colleagues. In their home they spoke her mother’s native tongue and it felt unnatural speak to the woman in any other language. Speaking Arabic just clicked and in a small way it was a comforting familiarity at this very uncomfortable time.

Her mother smiled sadly back at her. It had been years since they had seen one another and she looked so much more worn than Fareeha ever remembered. The last time they met her mother was only just beginning to go grey, and the wrinkles on her face were only beginning to be pronounced. With Overwatch her mother had paled after long periods of time away from the harsh desert sun, but now she once again as dark as those who spent their whole lives in Egypt. It was as an afterthought that Fareeha noticed the eyepatch that had never been there before.

“<Yes. Jack told me that is what you believed. I am not surprised you thought this. People only believe their missing loved ones will return for so long before they accept the possibility of death. I am afraid, that isn’t true, my dear.>

She knew when her mother left for a mission she might not come back.

No one around her ever realized that. They thought death and warfare too lofty of concepts for a child to understand.

 Ana never tried to hide her profession from her daughter. Fareeha grew up knowing her mother was a soldier and from a very early age that meant she knew one day her mother might not come back. No one told her as much before, but children are quicker learners than adults give them credit for, and she learned their coded language as readily as her mother tongue. She saw people leave and fail to return. She saw the way her mother would hold her close and whisper her loves before she left. She saw the sadness when adults mentioned the names of people who didn’t make it. She saw the caskets roll out of the air transports.

It took everyone by surprise to find how well she took the news. Her mother was left behind. Left behind to die.

She was not heartless. She sobbed for hours when she first received the news. But she knew the woman her mother was. Ana Amari was born a soldier and lived a soldier and would die a soldier.

And now, it filled her with guilt.

She moved on. She forced herself to get over it. Fareeha never dwelled on it because she was never afforded the privilege of doubt.

She wanted to be angry at her mother for the lies. For spending all these years in hiding and allowing her own daughter to believe she was dead. But all Fareeha could think about in that moment was how easily she got over it. She had cried, but maybe she was stone hearted because she never bothered to look for her mother, and just accepted Overwatch’s reports.

Ana must have read it on her face, because she didn’t wait for her daughter to ask before she started to explain herself.

“<We were in a war torn city. It took me a week just to get out of it. I was taken into a hospital and treated- by the time I was well again everyone believed I was dead. I waited to contact Jack. I wasn’t ready to face Overwatch yet. The fatigue had been something I wrestled with for a while before the accident. I spent a lot of time alone in the hospital with my thoughts and  at the time it seemed like a sign from Allah that it was time to give up. I told myself I would get better and call Jack- but I never did.>”

“<I thought about you. I thought ‘what must Fareeha think?’ Your grandmother died when I was very young. Younger than you. I said to myself, 'I did it. Fareeha is a woman grown now.’ You had just entered the army, you were such a strong girl, I didn’t think you needed me.>”

 Fareeha said nothing. She watched her mother in silence for a long time after she finished speaking. What questions could she ask? It seemed like there were so many still left unanswered and yet Ana seemed to have summed up everything so nicely in just a few words.

 She couldn’t look at her mother, not while she attempted to organize her thoughts. She closed her eyes, and took a long, deep breath, careful to keep the bubbling emotions out of her voice.

”<Would you have come back if I hadn’t asked you to?>”

“<You didn’t ask, dear. You told me too. I know Jack. It’s always been easier to convince him when when I let you do it for me.>” She returned with a sad smile.

“<You knew we were going to be in Numbani.”> It wasn’t a question.

“<I did. After all these years of hiding, did you think I would be so careless as to let Overwatch just accidentally fall on top of me? I founded this organization, Child. Stick around a little longer and you will learn which causes we take on and which ones we don't.>"  Ana was known to her teammates and friends as a spitfire that could not be contained, but her daughter had a different image of the woman.  Years later her mother could still be infuriatingly blasé and borderline condescending to those to questioned her judgement.

Fareeha frowned, suddenly no longer wanting any more answers. She was struck by how selfish all of it had been. How could someone so devoted to saving others be so cruel to her own daughter? Ana didn’t even seem all that apologetic about it. Morrison- Morrison knew. He knew for days and he didn’t tell her.

She _was_ angry _._ She was angry at Ana for leaving, and Morrison for keeping secrets and herself for being so stupid.

“Thank you.” She responded curtly. And that was it. She was done with this conversation. She had learned in the army that when one could no longer control their anger they were no longer fit to speak. So she excused herself abruptly and without a word, leaving Ana and the room without a backwards glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another couple thousand words written from when I first started this fic. They may or may not be compiled into a 4th chapter.


End file.
